


Hate To Love You

by thescarletphoenixx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Innuendo, Not Canon Compliant, Soulmates, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 09:10:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18333002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescarletphoenixx/pseuds/thescarletphoenixx
Summary: She wasn't sure who to expect when she experimented with soulmate magic, but it sure as hell wasn't him.





	Hate To Love You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Marvelously Magical FanFiction’s Roll-A-Prompt 2019
> 
> Entry #6  
> Marvel Character: Wade Wilson  
> Harry Potter Character: Daphne Greengrass  
> Trope: Soulmates
> 
> I have never written Daphne or Wade before, so I hope I did these characters justice with the creative liberties that I took. Also I had way too much fun dropping F-bombs in this story, haha!
> 
> Special thank you to my alpha JenniseiBlack and my beta GaeilgeRua!
> 
> Disclaimer: All non-original characters, plot points, and information belongs to Warner Brothers, J.K. Rowling, and/or Marvel. The story plot and dialogue belongs to me. I do not write for profit.

 Daphne Greengrass is done. She is so fucking done right now that she’d give her left kidney for someone to sew Wade’s mouth shut with a dull needle. Because he hasn’t shut up and his crude humour is grating her nerves. He thinks he’s hilarious, but she’s seriously about to hex the shit out of him if he keeps it up. Instead, she closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. Hexing him would do her no good anyway, unfortunately it would not solve the problem at hand. You see, in a truly mind-boggling turn of events, she’s discovered that Wade Wilson is her designated soulmate. This cannot be right. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

 

They’re sitting in Wade’s friend Weasel’s shitty bar, and Daphne has never been more thankful for shitty liquor in all her life. She throws back a tumbler of dark rum. She’s past the point of feeling the bite of the alcohol and past the point of needing a mixer or a chaser. Her mind is becoming hazy, but she doesn’t care. She has also stopped counting the number of times Wade has done a shitty imitation of her accent or asked her if she’d rather have “a spot of tea,” with his pinky in the air like the jackass that he is. She rolls her eyes and huffs. This just cannot be right, she doesn’t understand it in the slightest. Of all the wizards and Muggles in the world the spell could have matched her with, she’s ended up with Wade. FUCK.

 

Daphne is bitter. Disappointed, melancholy, and so bitter. She misses Astoria and Pansy, she misses them so much. She didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye before the spell had yanked her forward in time and deposited her in New York City. She landed rather ungracefully, falling through the portal, and landing in a dumpster, of all places. A damn DUMPSTER. How humiliating.

 

The spell she’d used was a complicated one, equal parts wand work and potion-making. After spending an entire month brewing the potion, it was meant to be drunk, and afterwards, one had only to disapparate with an additional incantation, and they would be united with their soulmate. This is how she came to land in a New York City dumpster right below Wade’s apartment. Oh, the irony. She had laid there dazed for a few minutes until she’d been positively terrified out of her reverie by a man in an absolutely ridiculous get-up. Staring down at her like a gargoyle from his perch on the adjacent fire escape. Bloody hell.

 

At first, he wasn’t all that concerned that she knew who he was.

 

“Well, I’m kind of a big deal,” were his exact words, in fact.

 

But he was confused when she began to explain her background, although his confusion quickly became amusement. He’d actually laughed at her when she finished explaining that she was a witch and that she’d fucked up a soulmate spell and surprise, she was his soulmate. It was a howling kind of laughter, which only made her more frustrated. When she’d demonstrated some simple magic so he wouldn’t keep on like she was crazy, he’d asked if he was supposed to be scared of her. Dripping with sarcasm, of course.

 

If she had known at the time what she was really getting herself into, she’d never have attempted it. But the damage has been done, and she is stuck here with Wade. She downs another tumbler of rum as her vision starts to blur at the edges. Might as well keep on drinking.

 

She’s been here two weeks now, and already she’s changed more than she wants to admit. She hates to say it, but Wade’s potty mouth rubbed off on her frighteningly fast. She’s been living in his apartment, sleeping on his couch. Ha. She can’t believe she’s reached the low of sleeping on someone’s couch, but there’s no way she’s sleeping in his bed. Nope. Absolutely not.

 

Perhaps it is also so easy to be nasty because of the way she’s feeling. Any other woman in her position would be just as put out, she thinks. To her dismay, her foul attitude has not deterred Wade one bit. If anything, he appears to actually _like_ it. This is most unfortunate. Usually she can get rid of a guy by being consistently mean, but not Wade.

 

This morning he’d had the audacity to slap her ass as she left the kitchen. And she couldn't even hex him for it. All she could do was growl at him and throw a halfhearted “fuck you, Wade,” over her shoulder, and it was the most curious thing. Daphne Greengrass was never one to waste a good hex, at least not until today.

 

No one could do a thing to get her out of this, she’s already tried. She has been to MACUSA a number of times, and each time she’s left feeling nothing but frustrated, so she’s quit going. The spell is binding, concrete. She swirls the last bit of rum around in her glass. What a fine mess she’s gotten herself into. If she’d only been patient… but she hadn’t been. It wasn’t in her nature. Astoria had Draco and Pansy had Blaise. Daphne was the only twenty-something in her group still unmarried, and she was sick of her mother reminding her “the clock was ticking,” or offering to arrange a match. She had just wanted to skip the searching and the bullshit and find her soulmate already. Oh, this is just fucking glorious.

 

Tired of asking for refills, she reaches over the bar to grab the bottle of rum she’s been nursing all night. With narrowed eyes, she silently dares Weasel to try and stop her. She is in no mood to be trifled with. No one is cutting her off tonight, not if they want to keep both their eyes. She tips the bottle and refills her tumbler. All the ice is long gone, and she doesn’t even care that the rum is room temperature when she swallows the amber liquid.

 

She was a Greengrass, damn it. Greengrass women didn’t sit in shitty bars drinking shitty liquor. They also didn’t swear like sailors or play with magic that they didn’t fully understand, but here she sits, having done all of the above, and continuing to drown herself in the aforementioned shitty liquor. What would her mother say if she could see her now? She actually laughs to herself at the thought, twirling her glass in her hand like an idiot. Unfortunately, this draws the attention of someone a few seats down.

 

“Hey sweetheart, want something with a little more kick to it?”

 

She turns her head slowly in the direction of the voice. It’s a man she’s never seen before. He looks to be around her age, not half bad looking, but something about the way he looks at her is unsettling. She shifts her eyes back to the bottle of rum in front of her and picks it up, shaking it a little and setting it back down.

 

“M’good, thanks.”

 

But this doesn’t deter him. In fact, he comes closer, leaving his seat to take up the one next to hers. Oh boy. She doesn’t want to have to use magic in a public place like this, but if he doesn’t leave her alone, she will certainly hex him. She is really in no mood for bullshit.

 

“Oi. British, are ya? I haven’t missed tea time, have I?”

 

He speaks to her in a fake, mocking accent that is quite possibly worse than Wade’s. She rolls her eyes and sucks in a sharp breath. And why the hell does everyone insist on asking her if she wants some fucking tea? Although right now she almost wishes she did have some hot tea so she could pour it right into this jerk’s lap.

 

“Listen, fella, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll quit while you’re ahead. I’m not interested, just so we’re clear,” she says flatly.

 

She reaches for the bottle in front of her, only to feel his fingers wrap around her wrist. Ohh, this will not end well for him…

 

“Do not touch me,” she growls at him.

 

He ignores her and laughs.

 

“You just need to lighten up, sweetheart.”

 

“Hey asshat, I believe she said hands off. Or do your big ugly ears not work?”

 

Wade. She finds herself actually relieved to hear his voice, coming from her other side.

 

“She’s got a serious stick up her ass,” the man says over her head, “her highness here just needs someone to pull it out for her.”

 

He snickers, pleased with his crude joke. Daphne’s free hand has come to rest at her other side and is just closing around her wand when a flurry of movement in her peripheral catches her eye. Before she can react, Mr. Sleaze is on the floor, squirming under Wade’s boot.

 

“First of all, she’s with me, I’m the only one who gets to crack ass jokes to her. Second, you seem to be about as much fun as a sandpaper dildo. No one fucking wants that.”

 

Evidently this guy doesn’t know when he’s lost, because he lets out a wheezing laugh and keeps running his mouth.

 

“With a face like that, I find it hard to believe any chick would be with you.”

 

Daphne cringes. Oof. That’s a low blow. She feels a pang of… something oddly akin to defensiveness. She shakes her head, she just can’t let that comment slide. She knows all about Wade’s history. While he might annoy her, no one else gets to be that much of a dick to him while she stands idly by. Opting for a different approach, she keeps her wand concealed, and hops down from the barstool. Right onto that douchebag’s outstretched hand.

 

“Oops,” she says brightly, as he howls in pain.

 

Keeping her heel planted firmly against his open palm, she swings her other leg across his outstretched body so she’s standing directly over him and right in front of Wade. She grabs a fistful of Wade’s shirt and drags him in for a bruising kiss. Her free hand wraps around her wand, still carefully concealed. With stealth precision, she shoots a nonverbal hex towards the body on the floor behind her. Hexes are her specialty, after all.

 

She pulls away with sparkling eyes, adrenaline thundering through her veins.

 

“I still hate you, asshole,” she says with a smirk.

 

“Back atcha, baby…”

 

She releases her foot from the man’s hand and turns around just in time to see him violently coughing up a gigantic, slimy slug. Pleased with herself, she slides back onto her barstool. Instead of refilling her rum again, she looks over at Weasel. She can’t tell if he’s impressed or scared shitless.

 

“I’d like something with a little more bite, please. Make it a double. Oh, and,” she gestures to the floor, “someone may want to get that bloke a bucket.”

 

Still smiling, she thinks to herself that perhaps this won’t be so bad after all.


End file.
